Who would win this round?

Meanwhile…

Inside a private lounge in an establishment situated closest to the outskirt of the capital, a group of angry men sat around the oval oak table. On the far end was Ismael wearing an ugly frown as he listened to the men's endless war of words regarding Joaquin's scheme. 

"Enough!" he slammed his palm against the table when he had enough of this squabble. "Debating endlessly will not resolve the problem. The incident today is a mere display of power since His Majesty hadn't been involving himself in the court to focus on his health. However, it is undeniable that the crown prince had finally plucked out his courage to take out those who threaten his power."

Ismael huffed as his eyes darkened. "Whatever scheme he concocted, I'll make sure he will never have the last laugh."

"Your Highness, for the crown prince to have such confidence, I'm certain he was absolute he could take you down —"

SLAM!